


Where It's Always $18.95

by Iwantthatcoat



Series: So You Thought That "Forgive Me, Benedict" Was Offensive? [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: As much fanon as i can possibly cram in, Because That's What Tentacle Monsters DO, By A Tentacle Monster, Crack, Gratuitous use of Lake Ronkonkoma, Humor, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, John is Moriarty, John's Lineage Is Questioned, Other, but not like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwantthatcoat/pseuds/Iwantthatcoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{There is another version that was edited for the 1895 words challenge, but this one will have additional chapters and a fuller arc.}<br/><i>"Belstaff doesn't make one like that anymore. They make them to order in China, but they always mess up the pocket placement or that really cool vent in the back doesn't … billow… yes, billow, quite right. Someone on Tumblr made a nice one, but she won't make any more." He frowns. "But I found one!" He smiles again, but only for the briefest of moments before his face darkens again. "And do you know how much the bloody thing costs?! One thousand pounds, Sherlock. That's half a fuckin' ton! So. I want yours." </i></p><p>Told I was likely to offend many with "Forgive Me, Benedict", I set out to write something a tad less offensive- a fic with every squick I could think of in it. It didn't get written. But I *did* end up with *this* highly offensive piece of crack. (Yes, I wrote funny implied-tentacle-rape. Sort of. If you can't handle that, please don't read! Also bad words. Thank you to JessamyGriffith for showing me that tentacle rape can be funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where It's Always $18.95

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [5 Times Moriarty's Tentacles Were Naughty, and One Time They Were Nice, (But Not In Any Chronological Order.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/216823) by [JessamyGriffith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessamyGriffith/pseuds/JessamyGriffith). 



When he arrives at the pool, he is expecting Moriarty. What he sees instead is his flatmate, wearing an overly-large, olive green coat from the Old Navy discount rack.

"John?"

John tilts his head down and to the right. "Obviously," he mocks, in an artificially-deep baritone. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Sherlock. I really am. But I want your coat."

"My coat?"

"Oh, I do so hate repeating myself. Yes. I. Want. That. Coat. I tried all the shops and do you know what they told me?"

Apparently it is not a rhetorical question; John sighs and asks again. "I said, do you know what they told me?! I really do so hate repeating myself Sherlock, I really, really do... so..... hate....... it," he mutters.

"It's… discontinued?" he offers.

"Damn right it is. Belstaff doesn't make one like that anymore. And I searched all over. In stores. Online. They make them to order in China, but they always mess up the pocket placement or that really cool vent in the back doesn't … billow… yes, billow, quite right. Someone on Tumblr made a nice one, but she won't make any more." He frowns. "But I found one!" He smiles again, but only for the briefest of moments before his face darkens again. "And do you know how much the bloody thing costs?!"

Sherlock wasn't going to risk not answering this time. He shook his head weakly.

"One _thousand_ pounds, Sherlock. That's half a fuckin' ton! So. I want yours." There is a shift in John's posture, his accent, his whole being. "I know it'll be a bit big, but there's a good tailor on the Lower East Side who does alterations for a very reasonable rate. _Moshe's: Where it's always $18.95._ "

Sherlock has just gotten over the fact that his flatmate and best friend is, in actuality, a criminal mastermind. As disconcerting as that is, he has already accepted it. But this... this is even more startling. 'Half a ton', 'Lower East Side', '$18.95'? Yes, he hears the silent dollar sign. He's Sherlock Holmes.

"John? You're not even British?"

"Nope. I'm from Lake Ronkonkoma. It's on Long Island." Sherlock gives him a blank stare. "In New York. Off Manhattan? Shaped like a fish? It's kind of in the belly of…oh never mind. Change "fuckin'" to "bloody", remember to call that goddamned medicine Paracetamol instead of Tylenol, cookies are biscuits and everything's a freakin' pudding!" He grew more agitated with each example. "The accent is easy if you watch enough 'Doctor Who'." Sherlock slumps his head down, chin to his chest. How did he miss this?

"But your tea…" he manages to push out of his lips, barely more than a whisper.

"Is consistently the wrong temperature," he (verbally) ejaculates. "I never did get the hang of letting the water get to a good rolling boil first. But you wouldn't notice now, would you? By the time you get around to drinking it, it's always gone cold anyway. "

He should have noticed. _He should have noticed._

"Oh, there you are!" John is looking over Sherlock's shoulder towards the pool when he hears it... a soft, rustling noise at first, growing louder by the second. Sherlock spins around and sees churning waves. "Allow me to introduce my collegue-- and when I say "colleague" I mean "friend and potential fuck buddy"-- Moran," says John. "He doesn't like 'Doctor Who'. Prefers reruns of 'The Weakest Link' and 'Gordon Ramsey'. At first, I thought that he watches Ramsey for the way he yells at everyone, but now that I know him better, I think he just likes to watch him debone fish." The purplish mass is moving closer, and suddenly a large tentacle reaches out and lands on Sherlock's shoulder, with almost a caress. "Oh, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has a thing for arrogant pricks," John smirks.

Oh. Ohhhh...

"Hey, do me a solid and grab that coat? Cool, thanks." Two tentacles grab the coat and begin sliding it down his shoulders "Hey, hey, careful with that! Try not to drip so much."

 

Sherlock is stunned. He tries to get a better look at the source of the tentacles, but another two wrap around his body, effectively immobilizing him. After handing over the coat, it makes quick work of his jacket and purple shirt. The buttons pop far too easily.

"What is it with you tentacle guys? Don't you ever think of anything else to do with those things besides stick them up someone's ass? Oh, man, such a fuckin' relief to get rid of that 'r'! The 'e' at the end I can handle, but the 'r' seems... unnatural. Oh well. I'm going to the dry cleaners before the chlorine damages this fabric. I'd hang around for a bit, but... still not gay. Have fun. Laters!" Over the squeaking of the hinge of the pool door, John might just have heard a hoarse whisper, "But ... I thought you played rugby for Blackheath..."

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork: Drawbadsherlock


End file.
